English Majors Have Meaning, Value

ABIGAIL LARKIN | FRESH TALKThe Hartford Courant

Some advice for parents whose sons or daughters decide to be English majors in college: Do not panic.

The gut impulse might be to consolidate all parent PLUS loans and pull your child out of college. Relax. Do some yoga breathing, and maybe shout out a little prayer to Jesus or Buddha or the goddess of stress-induced hair loss — whatever helps stabilize your blood pressure.

Having a son or daughter declare as an English major probably caused a bubble of parental worry to well up in your chest. Even if you acted the role of unconditionally supportive parent with Oscar-worthy finesse, you probably had your doubts: How did this happen? What were the signs? He always liked books, but this? I should have splurged for field hockey camp instead of getting her that library card.

For some of you, that worry bubble expanded until you couldn't help but point out, "But honey, what are you going to do with that?"

And then, there's the occasional volcanic eruption: "I'm not forking over a third of my paycheck so you can learn how to read a poem!"

Of course, that won't change your son or daughter's mind. He or she has heard it all before. For every jab you make at your kid's chosen major, more "pragmatically" majored classmates have made dozens. It's the first question any college student asks another:

"What's your major?"

"English."

"Oh, so you're studying joblessness."

"Getting into education? No? Prostitution, then."

And my personal favorite:

"But you already know English!"

English is derided as unimportant, easy, impractical, decadent, useless, etc.

Why?

Because, people ask, how does studying literature help us progress?

I could never quite gather what "progress" means or what its purpose is. Perhaps progress is meant to make our lives easier. In that case, English majors really are a detriment to the whole operation. Making things easier is not their specialty. English majors are trained to examine and scrutinize — to squeeze out every last drop of significance from details that might otherwise go unnoticed. They are questioners and skeptics: Whose point of view is this coming from? Is this a reliable narrator? What is the underlying context here?

English majors are taught to challenge conventional thought — for example, the idea that there are more important and less important academic majors. Each discipline, from physics to philosophy, acts as a unique lens through which we can view the world. The universe is far too big for our minds to process it all at once. English and mathematics alike are more digestible pieces of the larger thing: They tell a version of the same story.

To top it off, English majors know what the word syzygy means. (They totally kill at Hangman.)

Anyway, English majors choose their course even with the prospect of a lower salary, an uncertain job market and pages upon pages of work that goes mostly unappreciated by their peers. The laboring English major is not a pretty sight:

"Look at you," says a concerned roommate, "you're greasy, unshowered. You're skipping class so you can finish another essay, and you're wearing two different types of plaid! This is rock bottom."

But English majors carry on, undaunted. They keep going, correctly parsing sentences to extract all their meaning.

I want to assure the parents of English majors that their sons and daughters will emerge from college wholly educated. They will stand proudly alongside their fellow graduates — but each will have something a little different to offer. Something unique.

The concerned parents of English majors should remember that the world needs people like your son or daughter, whether the world knows it or not.

Abigail Larkin, 21, of Cheshire graduated this spring from the University of Connecticut with a bachelor's degree in English.

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